


Rekindling the Flame

by IGOTPWNED183



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Alcohol, Drugs, M/M, The feelings!, Trikey - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-24 21:00:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2596274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IGOTPWNED183/pseuds/IGOTPWNED183
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trevor can never forget the past and the fact that Michael has already moved on without him. But can the old flame between them spark up again?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Past Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> Hey ya'll! I hope ya'll like my first ever fanfiction towards this fandom. I couldn't help but fall in love with both of these characters as I played the game and I just couldn't stop my feels from gushing out as I read a few Trikey stories. Please leave comments to help me improve with my writing! And of course, thank you for reading.

Cold. _Freezing cold._

  
Trevor opened one eye as he groaned and shifted towards his side. Numerous half-empty bottles of pills dropped from the edge of his bed making scattering noises as they rolled across the messy floor. However, none of this bothered the man as he slowly pushed himself off of his bed, the mattress groaning under his weight. He blinked slowly, rubbing at his arms with his hands, trying to warm himself up from the coldness of the air in his trailer. He firmly got onto his feet as he felt warmth slowly spread throughout his body. He stepped past the strewn mess of clothes and beer bottles as he inched out of his room. He winced slowly at the moonlight coming from the windows in his living room.

Fucking shit.This was another one of those restless nights. Of course, it wasn't like Trevor ever slept for more than 5 hours a day due to his excessive use of drugs, but he wasn’t like he ever was the type to sit around and snore his ass off for hours at end….like a certain someone.

_Michael._

  
The very name stabbed at him with more pain than any gunshot or knife wound could ever deal to him. He cursed to himself slightly as he made his way to his kitchen. Why did he always have to end up thinking about that fucking snake every time he woke up? The bastard had abandoned his own crew and made a mushy deal with FBI to get everything he ever wanted: money, cars, and a huge mansion. Rage filled Trevor again as he remembered the look on Michael’s face as the latter yelled at him to run away during the failed heist. He couldn’t believe he had spent years mourning for that snake, the image of Michael’s face haunting Trevor in his sleep every night.

  
Yet when he saw Michael well and alive in his fancy home with all those expensive appliances surrounding the fat bastard, he not only felt rage bursting through his very core and soul, but also a relief. Relief that his best friend wasn’t dead and buried six feet underground. But that relief was scratched and blown away by years and years of pent-up rage and sadness mixing with disbelief that Michael was alive and had left him in the dark.

  
 _How could you?! How could you do this to me?!_ Trevor had screamed and screamed at Michael in his kitchen before they rushed to save Tracey from humiliating herself in an audition in front of the entire world. The same rage made him almost kill Michael in a standoff in front of the grave that held Brad’s corpse, yet seeing Michael’s eyes staring back into his stopped him from pulling the trigger. No matter how angry or how much he wanted to hurt Michael, Trevor could never force himself to do any harm to Michael.  
It was almost ironic that he, Trevor fuckin’ Phillips, who could kill anyone and anything without any remorse and in cold blood be not able to murder the one person that caused him the most pain in his life.  
Annoyance filled Trevor as he finally reached his kitchen and started to search the cupboards for something to drink.  
Why was it when he was alone with his thoughts that he ended up going straight back to something that hurt him so much?

  
_Why? Why?_

  
This one worded question repeated itself infinitely as Trevor scrounged past empty bottles and cans before managing to find a half-empty bottle of whisky. Trevor could never bear to face the truth that was locked away deep in his heart and weighed down by all the alcohol and drugs.

  
The truth and simple fact that he loved Michael Townley.

  
He loved everything about him. His hair, his blue eyes, and the way he scrunched up his eyes when he aimed his gun. Trevor had fallen for him the first time he laid eyes on Michael. The confidence and sly smirk that Michael had and still remained even after so many years. It was perhaps the reason for Trevor’s undying loyalty and willingness to do anything that Michael wanted to, even if they might’ve died doing so.  
Yet Trevor could never forget the worst of the pain when Michael happily declared that he was getting married to that ridiculous fake sac of tits, Amanda. The pain when Michael wanted to be out of the crew and heists, saying that he was going to have a family after learning that he was going to have a baby daughter. His heart feeling like it was going to burst when he gave a fake smile to the news. He had tried his very best to bring Michael back, begging him to come back. Trevor couldn't believe that Michael would throw all those years of them both working, sleeping, drinking, and laughing with each other just for this one fling with a stripper.

  
Trevor opened the bottle and poured himself a glass of whisky, staring at the liquid sloshing around the dirty glass. When did he get so pathetic? To relive and relive the pain of his past every freaking minute he was awake and not drunk or high. After all, he should be celebrating the fact that they had managed to pull off the biggest heist in their entire career. And yet only after a week, his past came back up to haunt him. He glared at the rippling reflection of himself from the liquid in his glass, cursing and blaming himself for being in this state.  
His hand shook a little before he gulped down the entire glass of whisky. The alcohol spread quickly through his tired body, slowly burning his feelings away. He slammed the glass back on the counter and stomped back towards his bedroom.

  
He ignored the tears that slowly fell down his face as he walked past the bright moonlight and into the shadows. The strands of salty tears gleamed in the moonlight as his last thought came out-

_I love you, Michael Townley._


	2. Driving to Sandy Shores

Sunlight streamed across the bedroom, hitting Michael full on the face. With a grunt and curse, the rather chubby man pulled himself up from the comfort of his bed.

_Damn it_.

He drank way too much last night, his head threatening to burst if he made any sudden movement. He took a look at himself in the mirror, taking note of the bloodshot eyes, before going downstairs in hope of finding some water and aspirin. It took a minute or two, but he eventually found the pills and swallowed some down with a glass of water.

It had been a few weeks since the spiral of events that had made Michael’s life turn upside down once again. From doing numerous biddings from the FBI’s as well as other things that Devin Weston forced him to do. In fact, Michael couldn’t recall having much of a peaceful moment after Trevor had unceremoniously let himself back into Michael’s life by sneaking into his house and making quite the scene in the kitchen. Yet Michael couldn’t help but smile at the fact that he, Trevor, and Franklin had managed to go against everyone that wanted to kill them….which was saying something considering that they had _a lot_ of enemies namely the FBI, gangs, extremely rich men who held big grudges.

Of course, a lot of the problems had come from Trevor and his antics, but that was something to be expected out of the crazy psychopath and Michael wasn’t expecting anything less the moment the storm called Trevor had come back into his life. But they did it. _They did it._ They didn’t have to worry about anything anymore. With all the big shots out of the picture—Devin, Steve, and Wei Cheng—as well as the FBI and Merryweather off their backs, they didn’t have to keep a constant eye out for someone waiting in the shadows to blow their brains out. Well, there might be an off chance that someone might still be searching for the ones that robbed the Union Depository, but there was very little chance that they would find any evidence or trace.

However, the thing that Michael worried about most was Trevor. He knew that his old partner wasn’t the type to “lay low”, even asking the crazy guy to stop doing crime or whatever he did in his spare time was just asking for a beating. But as the days passed by with no news channel reporting anything about the crimes that they did (ironic since they killed some pretty prominent men) and Michael grew more confident that they were steer clear of anything that could bring them down. He had called Trevor and Franklin to make sure that there was no heat on any of their ends, but nothing seemed to be going down besides Franklin complaining about Lamar. _The usual._

Yet Trevor had only answered to one of his calls before not responding to any of his texts or calls to him afterwards. The call was brief, just Michael making sure that there wasn’t anything eventful going on that would force him to go down to Sandy Shores and save his friend’s ass. This was something new as Michael could never recall Trevor not responding back to any one of his texts or calls to him. Maybe something was going on with Trevor’s business that made him too busy to answer him….. _No way….._

Michael scowled as he slammed his cup of water onto his kitchen counter. There was no way Trevor wouldn’t at least answer or text him back with profanity and the usual scream to leave him the fuck alone. Something was up. Without another thought, Michael reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell. He quickly scrolled down his contacts stopping in front of Franklin’s name. Maybe the kid knew what the heck Trevor was up to. After all, it wasn’t unusual for Trevor to hit it up with Franklin without inviting Michael.

“Yo man, how’s it going?” Franklin picked up after a few rings.

“Hey kid. You doing alright?”

“Never better. Especially having those Feds off my back.” Franklin and Michael both chuckled.

“But yeah man. What’s going on with you?”

“Oh! I was wondering if you maybe heard from T? He hasn’t answered any of my calls or texts for at least two weeks. It’s not like him to at least tell me to fuck off before hanging up.” Franklin could hear the annoyance in Michael’s voice, but that wasn’t strong enough for him to not notice the concern that was radiating from his voice as well.

“Sorry, but I haven’t talked to him for a week. Maybe you should go visit him?” Franklin wondered if Michael would even consider going back to Sandy Shores. After all, he _did not_ want to listen to Michael’s story of the burning desert again.

“Yeah. Yeah I will. Sounds like a plan.” He didn’t miss the small snort that Franklin gave when the kid heard him actually admit that he was willing to go back to that hell hole again. “ _I heard that.”_ Michael added in a rather reproachful tone.

“Haha! Sorry about that. Do you want me to tag along? Before ya’ll end up trying to kill each other again like in the Depository?” Franklin couldn’t help but give another chuckle as he heard the older man swear under his breath at that last question.

“Nah it’s alright. I needed something to do to clear my head after all the shit that went down you know?”

“Alright man, holler at me whenever. _And seriously,_ I better not have to come over to bury you two when you blow each other up.”

“Shut up.” Michael cut Franklin off mid-laugh, rolling his eyes as he made his way back to his room get dressed before making the two hour drive to the hottest place on the planet.

Unfortunately for Michael, clearing his head was something he could never do. After all, he never was the type to _not_ have at least a dozen thoughts or worries go about his brain. On one hand there was the current situation that he was living in between him and his family. He and Amanda tried to reconcile after he had promised not to do anymore life-threatening stunts. But, of course, pulling off a big heist like the UD wasn’t exactly something that worked in his favor when Amanda found out that he actually didn’t quit. They both had tried to talk to each other more about their problems and what they could do to remedy it. Yet it ended up with Amanda in high indignation every time she saw him leave the house to do who-knows-what when it was just him going over to hang out with Franklin or go see a new movie that just came out. His relationships with his kids remained pretty much the same, although it was a bit closer than before. At least that’s what Michael thought it had become. Tracey was still as distant to him as she was before she had moved out, not even giving him as much as a second glance when he passed by her on the stairs. Jimmy stayed on his fat ass watching T.V or playing more of those stupid video games instead of going out and trying to find a job or something.

In the end, Amanda and Michael ended up splitting up again, deciding that they were probably better as friends then lovers anyways. Surprisingly, this worked in both of their favors considering that their relationship had dwindled down to something like friendship albeit a rather screaming and fighting over everything kind of friendship. They agreed that the kids could stay with whoever they wanted to and visit whenever as long as they gave them a heads-up beforehand. It was no surprise to Michael when Tracey and Jimmy chose to stay with their mom. Not that he gave it much of a care, thinking that he could at least have the house to himself and do whatever the hell he wanted without someone screaming or yelling at him for being a lazy ass or something. Yet after a few days of being alone, he couldn’t help but feel pretty lonely in such a huge mansion with no one besides himself.

His only comforts were alcohol and having marathons of movies. He didn’t really have any friends besides Trevor or Franklin, but he couldn’t impose himself on Franklin all the time, not when the kid had to deal with his idiot friend Lamar. Michael had hoped that Trevor would at least hang out with him like the good old times when they were still partners in crime and Michael hadn’t betrayed Trevor. But Trevor never returned his calls, leaving Michael stuck in his empty mansion and drinking away his expensive bottles of alcohol.

Michael sighed to himself as he drummed his thumbs over the steering wheel, his eyes scanning the slowly changing scene of city to desert.

_Why do I always end up thinking about Trevor?_

One reason might be the guilt that he had felt for betraying Trevor at Ludendorff and had tried to back away from discussing it with Trevor for as long as he possibly could. Michael dreaded it. _How_ could he face Trevor when it was so obvious that Michael had thrown him away like some worthless dog that didn’t mean anything to him just so he could live the dream he had always wanted: a fancy house, a family, and a perfect life. He wouldn’t be surprised if Trevor was actually waiting on the front steps of his trailer for Michael, knowing full well that Michael could not stop himself from worrying about the crazy psycho. Waiting to shoot the brains out of him. Yet he knew that there was no way around not telling Trevor the truth. His partner deserved it after all those years of sticking to Michael and covering his back.

Michael would not admit it, but he was _afraid_ of Trevor. _Afraid_ that Trevor would do something completely unpredictable and violent. It was one thing that the man was unpredictable, but another that Michael still couldn’t completely tell what was going on his head after all these years of knowing and working with him. Perhaps that was a good thing, it wasn’t like Michael needed to know the crazy murdering thoughts or frenzy to have sex with any person in sight.

Yet the only thing Michael wanted was for Trevor to finally forgive him and be happy…..if that was possible. Ever since Trevor had exploded back into his life in Los Santos, the crazy psychopath had reminded him every single day how much of a fucking snake he was. “Snake” being the most polite of the nicknames and cussing that he gave Michael. Despite having pulled off the near-impossible heist at the UD, Trevor didn’t stop blaming him for everything that he went through to the point that Franklin had to stop the two of them from slicing each other’s throats, which actually might have happened had the kid not jumped in the way of Trevor rushing at him.

_But what could he possibly do?_ Trevor was not the type that took apologies to heart, especially when it was coming from Michael whom he no doubt hated considering how much death threats Michael received every time they hung out or worked together. Even if he did apologize, Michael could not apologize for lying to Trevor’s face that there was nothing in his grave, the latter eventually finding out that it was Brad’s corpse inside the coffin. And it was no small thing that Michael _really did_ backstab Trevor by never ever contacting him for years and leaving him in the dark.

But there was always those times when Trevor was threatening Michael, got close enough to actually beat the shit out of him, but suddenly stopped and stormed off without actually doing anything. It was easily apparent that Trevor simply _could not_ and _would not_ do anything to harm Michael, a sense of loyalty that was always there despite Michael being so terrible to him. And that was the major source of guilt that hung over Michael every time he looked at his old friend. The simple fact that Trevor still thought that Michael _was_ his friend even with all those lies and pain that Michael had thrown at him.

And yet, Michael berated himself for all those years of wanting Trevor to be gone, secretly hoping that even if he did not kill Trevor, the crazy druggie would end up overdosing or shot up by a gangster. He had all the opportunities in the world to get rid of Trevor from his life, yet never ended up doing so. Michael could have shot him anytime: the time Trevor stormed into his kitchen, the time they were sitting in the bars, or the times they spent looking over the plans of the heists again and again. Michael hated himself, more than anyone, and couldn’t bear to feel the guilt that would happen if he even tried to kill Trevor. He had already killed Brad…..there was no way he could face himself in the mirror and pretend that he was still a human if he put down his best friend.

_Why?_ Why did he always have to push Trevor away no matter what? All those years of them together, pulling off jobs….he still pushed all that away to run away with Amanda and his baby girl leaving Trevor to fend for himself for so long. And after Trevor came back, he still tried to swat him away as if he was some mosquito trying to suck the life out of him.

But that wasn’t the issue here.

Michael steeled himself as he got ready to face the one person in his life that made him quiver in his shoes no matter how much he tried to put on a brave face. The one question that he _knew_ he had to answer was the question that came up to him every time Trevor looked at him with those brown eyes filled with hurt and pain every time he saw Michael.

_Just what did Trevor mean to him?_

Mortal enemies? Best friends? And something Michael didn’t really want to think about: fucked up lovers? After all, they were young and innocent back then. Experimenting wasn’t anything forbidden. They were just two men that did everything together, from shopping to heists and even to the point where they cuddled together in those harsh cold nights in those dingy motels after a bad score. Michael hoped that everything could be answered as he pulled up to a stop in front of Trevor’s trailer.

Silence greeted his ears as he made his way out of his car and slammed it closed. His heart full of doubt and self-loathing, Michael walked up to the front door preparing himself for the worse-

_This is it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope ya'll enjoyed this chapter. I think it was important to go through Michael's head before anything else because there is no doubt a lot going on even without Trevor being there in the flesh. Please comment and give feedback because I have no idea if I'm writing splendidly or completely terribly. Haha! More to come! ;)


	3. Staying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was inspired on a chapter in Vignettes and Things by noog. I love those little stories and how cute they are! I'm currently trying to figure out how to do the edit on the inspired part (not sure if anyone even gets what I mean). I think I have to reread the FAQ again. Do I just link the URL and then it pops up somewhere? >.>?  
> By the way, does anyone remember that scene where Michael explains why Trevor is a hipster? I just couldn't help but put a little of that into this chapter as well, considering how much it always cracks me up.

_This is it._

The thought repeated itself over and over again as Michael took in the fact that he was standing in front of Trevor’s trailer. Of course, the time where he had to stay with Trevor when the idiot had taken Patricia did not really help to improve his view of Trevor’s home. But still, this was the first time that he went to visit Trevor on his own whim. Michael checked the time on his watch, it was half past nine,

_Still pretty early._

Michael slowly made his way to the front door, taking note the only patch of grass in the sandy ground that surrounded the trailer. The flowers that Patricia had planted were actually still alive, perfectly healthy despite her having left to go back to her husband for so long. Michael didn’t think Trevor was the type to take care of anything…well….at least not anymore.

And just like that, time seemed to slow down as his memories rushed forward like one huge whirlpool. He was back in the past, back even before the time of the failed heist at North Yankton, back to when it was during a time of calm after the both of them had pulled off a job and were laying low at Michael’s dingy trailer-

_“GO MAKE TRACEY SOME FORMULA!!!”_

_Amanda was screaming at Michael before giving a hateful glare at Trevor sitting on the couch in front of the cheap, almost broken T.V. in the living room. Michael barely made his way into the kitchen before he could hear the sound of their bedroom slamming shut. He gave a small sigh at his soon-to-be wife’s usual reaction whenever Trevor came over to stay. He knew that she didn’t approve of having him over, no matter how much Michael reassured her that Trevor wouldn’t hurt Tracey no matter what._

_However, he had just barely put the formula into the bottle before hearing Tracey give an extremely loud shriek. Fear hit him as he dropped everything and fumbled out of the kitchen and towards the living room. Maybe Amanda was right and Trevor had just done something to Tracey who was playing on the living room rug in front of the T.V. However, what Michael saw made him stop in his tracks-_

_Trevor was holding Tracey and spinning around like an airplane, the tiny toddler secure in his arms. She gave another shriek, except this time Michael knew that it was just laughter not a shriek of fear or horror. However, what Michael was focused on was the fact that Trevor was laughing with a smile that lighted his face. This wasn’t the sly grin or mocking smirk that Trevor always gave towards him, but a true smile that he never knew Trevor could actually have. The pair didn’t notice that Michael was at the doorway staring at them, each too caught up in the fun of the moment. Michael smiled before moving towards back to the kitchen, but froze when he heard the first words that ever came out of Tracey’s mouth-_

_“Tee, Tee”_

_If Michael didn’t want to ruin the pair’s moment together, he would have doubled over in laughter. His daughter’s first words were “T”, the same way that he always referred to Trevor when he called him his name. He knew that Amanda would not appreciate that Tracey’s first words or “word” was Trevor’s name, but he couldn’t help but widen his smile when he heard Trevor gave a roar of laughter and delight at Tracey calling his name._

His head snapped back into the present as Michael noticed that he had his hand right on Trevor’s front door.

_Why did I go back to thinking about that?_

Michael didn’t give it anymore thought before shaking his head and knocking on Trevor’s door.

“T, you there? T?”

There wasn’t any response before he noticed that the door wasn’t even locked, his knock had jarred it opened a little. Curiosity filled him as he pushed the door all the way open. It wasn’t the first time he had went into someone’s house without them inviting him inside, but he wasn’t sure how Trevor might react to Michael just strutting into of his trailer without his permission. Then again, Trevor wasn’t one to talk since he _always_ snuck into Michael’s house without his permission, going through his alcohol drawer and ending up passed out on Michael’s couch or bed, much to the Michael’s annoyance.

Closing the door behind him, Michael gave another call out, “T?” His eyes scanned across the room, taking in the mass of beer bottles and other trash on the floor before stopping on a familiar figure laying slumped on the couch. Michael’s lips formed a frown as the first thing that came across his head was: drugs. This wouldn’t be the first time that Trevor had overdosed on Meth or some other god knows what kind of drug. Except-

“ _Achooo!”_

Jumping backwards from the noise, Michael slipped on a stray beer bottle crashing backwards onto the ground. “FUCK!” Michael groaned in pain as he laid on his back. Perhaps he was getting too old, he couldn’t really muster the energy or strength to get off the dirty floor. But then again, the very thought of him being on the floor of Trevor’s trailer park was enough to make him leap back onto his feet. With a slight noise of disgust he made a mental note to himself to go to the dry cleaners when he got back to Los Santos.

“And just what do you think you’re doing _here_? Porkchop?!”

Michael had nearly forgotten that Trevor was right in front of him. He felt a little guilty that he spent more time thinking about his suit than acknowledging the person that sat only a few feet on the couch in front of him. As it was, that person was glaring at him threateningly but had a thick wool blanket wrapped around him as he faced Michael. Trevor looked so ridiculous, trying to act all tough and threatening while looking like a caterpillar that Michael couldn’t help but double over laughing.

“What? _WHAT?!”_

Trevor didn’t like people laughing at him, _especially_ not Michael. If he wasn’t feeling so sick right now, he might have grabbed the shotgun behind his couch and pointed it straight at Michael’s head and blew his brains out. Well that was what Trevor was thinking while he tried to shout at the fatter man in front of him who was laughing his ass off.

Michael was grabbing the edge of a table close to him for support as he gasped for air. _Trevor’s sick?_ Of all the times he had known the hipster, he hadn’t ever seen Trevor sick. As his mirth subsided, he wiped his mouth with a handkerchief in his pocket.

“I _hope_ you enjoyed your moment, you fatass. And since when do you even carry around handkerchiefs anyways?”

Trevor couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the piece of cloth that Michael held in his hand. No matter how much he tried to get used to Michael becoming some fat fuck that sat around and watched TV all day, it was another thing to learn that Michael used handkerchiefs like some old woman. _Really. A fucking Handkerchief._  However, he didn’t have the energy to start an argument with Michael right then and there. He didn’t want to admit it but he started feeling like shit a few weeks back and now he was sick like a dog. Maybe all those years sleeping on the ground or next to animals in the cold had finally decided to take its toll.

“I always carry one when I wear a suit, definitely not getting any saliva on this expensive jacket you know? _Oh wait._ You’re too hipster to wear these kinds of things.”

“Oh. _Fuck off.”_

Trevor groaned in annoyance at the term that Michael never failed to call him. Michael noticed how groggy Trevor sounded, confirming that he definitely caught a bug or the flu. Of course, it wasn't much sport to pick on a sick person, but who was he kidding? Michael _loved_ making fun of Trevor, it was what made those cold nights bearable at least.

“ _Hipster. Hipster. Hippppster.”_

Michael sang out the last word, wanting to see Trevor’s reaction.

“ _You stupid-“_

Not surprisingly, the skinner man tried to get up and punch him, but ended up almost falling from the couch because the blanket was too tightly wrapped around him. Michael bit back at his tongue, forcing himself not to laugh as he managed to catch Trevor before he fell face flat onto a bunch of used up tissues on the floor. Michael didn’t even know how he didn’t notice the white pieces of tissue on the floor considering that they looked like they were glowing besides the dark trash that surrounded them. He pushed Trevor back onto the couch, looking up at him before reeling backwards from a light kick aimed at his stomach.

“ _Oooof._ What was _that for?_ ”

Trevor smirked at Michael before giving a harsh cough that made his throat sting. _Please, that hurt my foot more than anything. Freaking tubby armor._ Now that he was closer, Michael tried to place his hand on top of Trevor’s head to see just how sick he was. However, Trevor quickly pressed himself backwards-

“ _What the hell do you think yer doing?”_

Unfortunately, the sudden movement made him feel extremely light headed and his stomach threatened to heave. Michael clucked his tongue in impatience and forced his hand on top of Trevor’s forehead before the latter could say another word.

_Yep. Fever._

“You’re sick.” Michael said simply as he looked at the bundle of mess in front of him, Trevor glaring angrily at him.

“Well, how fucking clever. You should become a doctor because of how _smart_ you are.”

Trevor gave up trying act tough and slumped backwards on the couch, groaning. Michael didn’t reply to the sarcastic remark, thinking that he had his share of fun poking at Trevor’s hate of being called a hipster.

“At least I know why you haven’t returned any of my calls or texts now.”

Trevor gave another ear-splitting cough before trying to wrap the blanket around him more tightly. He cursed at himself for letting Michael see the sorry state he was in. He had gave it a thought to at least call Wade or Ron or someone to ask what the hell he should do with this coughing, sneezing, and who knows what else might come, but he didn’t want anyone to laugh at him all curled up like some bug.

“Yeah, I’m sick. Now get out. Seeing a snake doesn’t exactly improve my mood, you know.”

Michael flipped him off before walking over to his kitchen in search for some medicine. Wincing at the racket that Michael was making in his kitchen, Trevor rolled over in the couch to face the back of it. _What the hell does he want? Does he actually care if I don’t return his calls or something?_ Another stab of pain hit him in the heart as he tried to shrug it off. This wasn’t the time to get all teary when the fucking snake was going through, raiding his kitchen.

“ _YOU BETTER NOT BE TAKING ANY ALCOHOL….or weed!”_

His voice cracked as he yelled, sending him into another round of coughing.

“Goddam it, T. Is there any medicine around here?” Michael yelled back in exasperation as he scoured the cupboards, only finding empty bottles among even more empty bottles of alcohol. “Uh…I think you ran out of weed too!” Michael gave a small laugh to himself as he heard Trevor curse loudly behind him. He almost gave up until he remembered that he stored some aspirin in his car, just for those days he passed out drunk and didn’t managed to find any hotel to stay at. Slamming the last cupboard door closed, he made his way back out of the trailer park without saying anything to Trevor who was giving him a questioning look.

It only took a minute for Michael to jog to his car and come back with the bottle in his hand. Trevor gave a distrusting look at the bottle, not sure if he should trust Michael to give him anything. Michael rolled his eyes yet again-

“As if you haven’t taken any drug that isn’t out there. Trust me, it’s just aspirin.”

Trevor felt another cough coming up before using all of his willpower to suppress it and forcing down the pill with the glass of water that Michael offered him. He gave a huge yawn as he put down the glass in front of him, he was too tired to talk or argue with Michael right now. Michael gave him a look of concern as he looked him over a second time.

“You’re gonna need a lot of rest if you want to get over this cold or something. C’mon I’ll get you to bed.”

Michael tried to grab the bundle of blanket that Trevor was in, but he pushed him away with an annoyed snort-

“I can get myself to my room.”

“T-“

Trevor managed to get on his own two feet, but instantly began to stumble before Michael grabbed and lent him his support. Trevor didn’t push him away this time, but refused to look at him in the face as they slowly made their way back to the bedroom. When they went past the bedroom door, Michael scanned the room as he let Trevor collapse on the dirty mattress. _Bleh, when was the last time Trevor cleaned his place?_ Then again he was talking about Trevor so he just dropped the question all together.

“If you’re planning to stay the night, you can have the couch.” Trevor’s voice was muffled by the blanket as he looked up at Michael.

“Aw, are you inviting me to stay the night?”

Michael chuckled as Trevor flipped him off before rolling on the side and covering himself with his blanket completely. Deciding it would be best to leave Trevor alone, Michael made his way to the couch, avoiding the mass of used tissues on the ground.

  _I’ll clean that up in the morning I guess._

He gave a sigh as he tried to find a comfortable spot on the couch. He hoped he didn’t catch whatever Trevor got, but whatever. He took his jacket off and covered himself around it, taking comfort in the fact that it provided some heat in the chilly trailer. He was so tired from moving around so much that it didn’t take much time before he felt sleep enveloping him. His last thought trailed away before he succumbed-

_Just like old times._


	4. Understanding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone had a good Thanksgiving! This chapter was stretched around for a while, so I apologize in advance if it seems like a thought might be disconnected or something. As usual though, thank you for reading and I hope ya'll comment and stuff to help me improve on my writing. I probably won't update for a while because school, work, and finals are clashing together at the moment. I hope ya'll enjoy! ;)

Trevor never had a good night’s sleep. Perhaps it was all the drugs that he took that disrupted the sleep cycles that his body needed but not ever given. Or possibly, it was the alcohol and every fight or rage that came afterwards. Or even all the bottled up depression at Michael’s supposed death at North Yankton for nine years which then turned to rage when he discovered that Michael was actually alive. Or maybe it was a horrendous mix of everything….but that was the least of his concerns when he woke up.

Trevor groggily opened up his eyes and waited as his eyes focused on the ceiling of his bedroom. He never knew that the faint green ceiling paint was beginning to peel off and starting to look even more like vomit, but fixing up his trailer was not on the top of his to-do list. For the first time, he couldn’t actually find the strength to get up. Not only did he have a massive headache, but he felt so weak that he wasn’t even sure if he could make it to the bathroom or kitchen to get some water.

 _Fuck. Being sick sucks._ Trevor never knew if he ever got sick before, his childhood memories scattered because he never wanted to remember all the…incidents that had happened to him while he was growing up. His version of sick as an adult was probably all the hangovers from alcohol and aftereffects that happened after he took a whole lot of drugs. Trevor tried to clear his head to no avail and slowly shook off the wool blanket to look at his watch. “1’o clock?!” He groaned as he used all his might to push his body into a somewhat sitting position on his mattress. He had slept for more than 10 hours. It was one thing that he was sick, but another to spend so much time snoring away when he could have been doing things. After all, Trevor’s favorite activity was….well…. _things._

And that’s when he noticed a certain smell in the air. Trevor’s nose was still pretty stuffy and running, but that was one smell he would never be able to not distinguish: smoke. At first, he was confused because he had never smelled that in his trailer or anywhere close to his home. Then he remembered: Michael de fucking Santa was here. _Oh fuck, is that snake burning down my trailer with me along with it?_ The very thought of that happening gave him the strength to jump onto his two feet and somewhat stagger out of his room to the direction of the smoke. He used the walls to support himself as he felt his legs threatening to give out under him as he tried to ignore the stinging smell as he got closer and closer to the kitchen. But he did not expect to see-

If Trevor’s mouth wasn’t stuck in a jaw dropping position, he might have laughed at the scene in front of him. “ _Fuck.”_ Michael was standing in front of the stove, swatting desperately at the burning pot that was bubbling feverishly on top of it. Michael’s cursing didn’t really reach Trevor’s ears because his brain was trying to process the fact that Michael was wearing a pink apron like some housemaid. _He’s…cooking?_ Trevor had never and he meant _never_ ever saw Michael cooking before and clearly he wasn’t good at it judging from how much smoke was coming from the pot. Trevor was about to ask him what the hell he was burning but the smoke made him start coughing like crazy.

Michael was still trying to fan out the smoke, but the hacking coughs coming from behind him made him turn around in surprise. “ _T!_ Looks like you made it outta bed yourself.” He gave a grin at Trevor, the latter glaring at him while he tried to find his voice. “Oh...uh…I sorta borrowed your kitchen. This is my first try at soup…didn’t turn out so well.” He gave a little nod towards the now not-so-much smoking pot behind him as Trevor slowly made his way towards him. “Using my kitchen to feed yourself? Better pay me for the gas bill…” Trevor groaned as he sat on a kitchen stool as he surveyed the mess around him. His kitchen was never clean, but Trevor still noticed the mess of bowls and used cans all around him as he sat down.

“This is for you actually.” Michael couldn’t help but smirk at the surprised expression that Trevor gave him. “ _Me?”_ Trevor said that single word with emphasis and pointed at himself to show the shock he felt that Michael actually made something for someone other than his fat self. Michael rolled his eyes as he put some soup in one of the bowls that he got during a quick drive to the local store after he woke up. Trevor didn’t really own any bowls that were clean or unused so he had to buy new ones as well as utensils. “Yeah, eat something or else you’ll be sick longer.” Michael carefully placed the bowl in front of Trevor, it was steaming and didn’t smell too bad.

Trevor frowned at the swirling soup that was placed in front of him. _Why is he still here and making soup for me of all people?_ “Why are you here, Mikey? Shouldn’t you be going back to those fake tits of yours?” Trevor didn’t care if he hurt Michael’s feelings, he was feeling too shitty and annoyed at the moment with being sick and having his entire trailer smelling like smoke. Michael frowned a bit at the stupid nickname that Trevor had stuck to his ex-wife, “I’m here because I actually care about you and besides, we broke up again.” Michael noticed the surprised look that popped up in Trevor’s face before it was quickly replaced by distrust. “Hmph. Probably gonna go back to her in a few days anyways.” Trevor gave an inspection of the soup, trying to figure out if Michael had planted some poison in it. Michael gave a defeated sigh as he sat on the other side of the table that was opposite from where Trevor was sitting, “Look. If you had picked up any of my calls or texts then you would know that we broke up a few weeks ago. And besides, I didn’t put poison in your food. I’m not trying to kill you, ya know?”

“Fine. Fine. I’ll eat your stupid soup.” Trevor spooned a little and stuffed it into his mouth. He could handle burning food no problem, but the taste was what threw him completely off. If he had tried to describe what the soup tasted like, he would probably put it along the lines of….sea-water mixed with pieces of chicken? Well something as bad as that anyways. But of course, he didn't want to hurt Michael's feelings. After all, this was the first time the chubby bastard had actually made food for him. His face betrayed him though when Michael frowned at his expression. “T…..” Michael knew that his cooking was terrible, he never really cooked before and neither did Amanda, so their household mostly lived off of take-out or whatever the maid cooked up. “It’s….delicious, Mikey.” Trevor forced down the soup before his brain could convince him to spit it all out. “You don’t have to force yourself, just spit it out.” Michael was beginning to feel disappointed at the fact that he made something so unpleasant for Trevor. But when he tried to grab the bowl away, Trevor stubbornly slapped his hand away. Michael raised an eyebrow at him, but Trevor merely shook his head and continued to spoon the soup into his mouth despite the disgusted expression he was making while do so. “This is the first thing that you cooked for me, not gonna let it go to waste, porkchop. It doesn’t taste…. _that_ bad.”

Michael felt heat flush up to his cheeks and he didn’t really know why. Maybe it was because this was the first time someone actually complimented him instead of yelling at him for everything that was wrong in their life. “I-I’m glad you like it…well at least you’re eating it.” Michael tried to hide the fact that he was blushing by starting to tidy up the kitchen. Trevor was too busy trying to swallow down the soup to notice that Michael actually went completely red in front of him. When he finished, he dropped the spoon back into the empty bowl. It made a ringing sound amongst the noisy clattering sounds that Michael was making as he was trying to clean up around the kitchen. Feeling a bit queasy from forcing down the soup, Trevor watched Michael as he was rounding up whatever he used to make the soup. _He doesn’t look half-bad in that apron._ Trevor gave himself a small smile as he pushed the bowl away from him. Unfortunately, the familiar stab of pain to his heart came back as he stared at the chubby man in front of him. Scowling, he forced down the feeling as much as he could. There was no way he was going to break down in front of anyone, _especially_ not Michael.

Feeling Trevor’s eyes on the back of his neck, Michael turned back around and noticed that he had finished the bowl. “I think you should be okay if you can eat that much, but you’re gonna need more rest.” Michael gave a sincere smile at Trevor, glad that he actually managed to swallow down everything.

The moment Trevor saw Michael’s smile at him, he felt that strange sensation in his stomach that never failed to happen when he looked into Michael’s face. People describe that feeling as the butterflies, but Trevor never fully understood why it would be called that. Maybe it was that crazy nervous feeling that popped up to the point where people would link it to having butterflies swarming around inside their intestines but still….butterflies? Unfortunately, this only happened when it came to Michael, only him. Trevor hated how much Michael could worm his way around his defenses and penetrate those feelings and thoughts that he tried so hard to hide from the world itself. Yes, Trevor called Michael a snake for the betrayal, deceit and hurt that came from him, but maybe it was also a reference to the fact that Michael was the only one that could slither through all those doors and barriers.

Yet if one were to describe his relationship to Michael, it might’ve best been put as a moth to a flame. Trevor always had this strange attraction to Michael, to the point where he couldn’t stop himself. Every time the moth got too close, the flame would burn and force it away. In Trevor’s case, it was Michael shoving him away for Amanda and marrying her no matter how much he had pleaded with Michael not to. And yet, it was impossible for Trevor to abandon those feelings no matter how much drugs, alcohol, or women he forced upon himself. He was trapped to follow and try to touch that flame no matter how much it burned him. Just like that mysterious flame that only crackled and burned, Michael was just like it. He never rejected Trevor. Never in all those nights in motels or cars. They cuddled and did many other things that would make other people question their relationship as best buddies/crime partners, but that never mattered to Michael. Trevor was that one person, the one odd factor in his life that he could not shake off or stop himself from wanting. Yet he could never express those feelings or thoughts that came to him whenever they were together, so he merely shrugged it off whenever things between him and Trevor became….too close. And then everything fell apart when Michael found something he could call _normal._ Amanda, marriage, kids….something he could call normal amongst his life of living on the road and crime. Yet through all that temporary happiness, he failed to see just how much he had hurt Trevor. Failed to notice what he was throwing aside. All those years in just a few moments.

Trevor shook his head as hard as he could, ignoring the stinging pain from his massive headache. _What the fuck is going on?_ Was it the sickness that was making him think like some old man? Or was it all the thoughts, pain, anger, and sadness that came crashing down upon him like a waterfall when he was alone with Michael? _Oh fucking great._ Of course, Michael noticed how strange it was for him to suddenly shake his head like some crazy person. “T? You okay?” Michael frowned as he looked concerned at whatever was going on with him. “Do you need more aspirin? Here.” Michael quickly grabbed a pill from the bottle and filled a glass of water before placing both of the items in front of Trevor. Trevor didn’t do anything but stare at the pill and glass on top of the cold surface of the table, completely quiet. It was so eerily silent that it was beginning to freak Michael out. _Is he okay?_ Michael wasn’t sure if Trevor was just feeling out of it because he was sick, or because he had actually poisoned the soup unknowingly and something was going on with Trevor. He was about to shake Trevor on the shoulder to make sure he was okay before the latter looked up at him with cold eyes and asked-

“ _Why_ are you still here?”

Michael was confused, “Didn’t I already-“

“No. Why are you here? You came for something. What do you _want_ from me?” Trevor hissed as anger began to boil over him as he noticed the sudden look of panic and fear that shot across Michael’s face. There was no fucking way that Michael came over in the first place to take care of him….no….he _wanted_ something from him.

Michael sighed as he realized there was no getting around this sudden turn of events without being truthful. “Okay, okay. I wanted to talk to you about what happened in North Yankton.”

Trevor gave a harsh, bitter laugh as he listened to those words that rolled out of the snake’s mouth. _Of course. The selfish bastard wants to feel better by hearing me forgive him or some crap._ “Oh? So you want closure? You _really_ need to get off that high horse of yours and look at what you actually did.”

Michael was confused at what Trevor was trying to get at. _Was it about Brad?_ “Look, I’m sorry for abandoning you and Brad. I shouldn’t have gotten Brad killed and put into my own grave alright? It’s just that it was a deal that would have gotten me out of the game for good and not six feet under the ground…”

“ _You. Still. Don’t. Fucking. Get. It.”_ Trevor pushed himself off of his seat and forced his way close to Michael, using his finger to stab every word into Michael’s chest as he spat at him. “What do you mean I don’t get it?” Michael was snarling back at Trevor, anger beginning to boil within him as well. Yet as he grabbed Trevor’s arms and tried to shove the leaner man aside, Michael couldn’t help but notice the sadness and pain that was etched in Trevor’s eyes and expression.

“You _left_ me to mourn you for nine years. _Left_ me to cry and scream at that grave. _Do you have any fucking idea how it felt?_ How it felt to be shoved aside? How it felt to think that the one person you cared about the most in your life dead? No, no, no, _no_. Michael. Can you imagine what it was like to learn that person who you thought was gone forever was actually alive the whole time? And learned that you never thought to check if I was alive or how I was doing after that? Can you, Mikey? _Can you_?!!” Trevor couldn’t stop the raw emotions that was pouring out of him as he spat out all those questions. All those years of suppressed sadness, rage, and pain. His eyes and throat were burning as he shook the fat man in front of him, as he screamed and yelled and wanted to punch the shocked expression that was on Michael’s stupid, stupid face.

“Trevor…I…“Michael was beginning to understand why Trevor had been so mad at him ever since they reunited. It wasn’t really about Brad being shot and killed, not even the fact that Brad was put inside his grave. It was simply because he left Trevor. Left him in the fucking cold after breaking his heart after he told him that he was marrying Amanda. Turning his back to whatever fucked up relationship they had between them, whatever had been there for so many years. Ignoring the begging and pleas. Shaking off his concern when he noticed Trevor starting to get hooked on more and more drugs.

“You never understood. Never understood…just how much I….I _loved_ you, Michael Townley!!!” And with that, all fight left Trevor as he let his arms flop to his side. This was it. He felt bitter and shocked at what he just did. He vowed he would never let those feelings and thoughts come out in front of Michael and he failed that miserably. Without another thought or word, Trevor whirled around and began to stomp away from Michael. Yet before he could barely take two steps he felt an iron-lock on his wrist. He looked back, surprised as he saw that Michael was stopping him from going away.

“ _Let go.”_ He hissed in annoyance, he didn’t have the strength to pull away. Even if he wasn’t sick, Trevor knew that Michael was stronger than him but he still tried to escape the crushing pressure that was being applied to his wrist.

“No.” Was his silent response.

“ _LET GO!”_ Trevor was beginning to feel woozy as he felt more and more nauseous from trying to pull away.

“No.”

“ _Fucking let go of m-“_

In a flash, Michael pulled the both of them into a hug. Trevor was shocked he felt Michael’s arms wrapping tightly around him and his head resting on his right shoulder. But what was even worse was that Michael was trembling as he locked Trevor with his arms. “ _Wuh-?”_ Trevor didn’t know what to say but he couldn’t wiggle away from Michael. That was when he felt something wet begin to slide down his neck and heard something that he never heard before. Michael was sobbing.

“I _fucked up_ didn’t I? I screwed over the only person that loved me and I knew it too.”

Trevor couldn’t respond as he realized that Michael was actually being…… _Michael?_ No excuses. No lying. No smoke and mirrors. Just simple, raw human emotion. Something he never thought would ever come out of Michael ever again.

“Mickey….” Trevor didn’t know what to say but Michael continued-

“When I told you that I was going to marry Amanda, I knew how much it would hurt you. I knew that I was throwing everything away for a shot in the dark. I didn’t know what I was doing. I-I…shouldn’t have left you in the cold for nine years like some abandoned dog. I just never knew how to tell you that I did care about you. That I loved you too. All these years that you weren’t here….all these lonely years…I guess I learned what they meant when they say that you never know how precious something is until you’ve lost it…”

Michael gave a hiccupping laugh as he sank to his knees, his arms ending up wrapped around Trevor’s legs as he silently sobbed on the ground. What he didn’t expect was Trevor to follow suit and end up on the ground as well.

“T…? I-“Michael wanted to plead or beg for Trevor to forgive him for taking so long to figure it out, but-

“Shhhhh.”

“I-“                                                              

“Shut up. Just shut up.”

This time, Trevor was the one who wrapped his arms around Michael’s neck. Michael tightly gripped back, letting his tears slowly drop as he buried his face into Trevor’s neck once again. They stayed like that for a long time, not saying a word to each other and just enjoying the warmth that was building between the both of them. They didn’t have to say it, but they could feel that a level of understanding had been reached. Something had clicked and that they didn’t have to use words to express it.

A small flame of hope was beginning to burn and come alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw, the eating scene was based off of: http://starfleetrambo.tumblr.com/post/76320650682/you-can-spit-it-out-now-t-related-to-that  
> Another inspirational artwork by demitasse-lover!


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